Too Far Gone
by thelonegunmenX
Summary: After her 'death', Prentiss goes a bit nuts in more way than one.
1. Not What You'd Think

The empty room was dark and frigid. Spaced out and unfocused, the weird kid with spiky green hair and knee high leather boots shouldered open the door with just a bit too much force. Throwing his jacket on a chair, and missing by almost a foot, he ran his hand against the wall to find the light switch. Without a sound, suddenly his hands were cuffed behind his back and his chest was pushed roughly up against the cheap plaster. A voice in his ear whispered loudly.

"Where is it?" The kid blinked rapidly in the almost non existent light, trying to push against the pressure on his back to no avail. He was stuck.

"What?" He croaked, voice raspy with disuse.

"The shipment, I'm gonna relieve you of it." The voice, undoubtedly female, was confident, assured.

"What makes you think that?" A click, and there was a gun against his neck.

"Shit," he exhaled. "You a nark?"

"Not exactly." The woman finally moved back enough for him to turn around and see her, the gun trained firmly at his face.

"I'm gonna take the stuff, any questions? She smiled at him in the dark, her straight hair partially obscuring her pale face. Stepping back further, she motioned with her gun.

"Sit on that chair. Now." The kid complied, not knowing any alternative. Quickly, the woman duct taped him to the chair.

"What's your name, kid?" She asked, leering at him.

"Zane." He choked out.

"Got any friends, Zane? With a stash that large, I'd assume you have quite a few." Her smile was scaring him, her calm demeanor unnerving.

"Yeah, well, I usually go to them." He didn't know why he answered the menial question, but he did.

"Well then, Zane, you better hope that someone happens to drop by, cause, you know, I wouldn't want a fine upstanding citizen like yourself to happen to cash in." That damn smile.

"Why?" He asked, confused.

"This" Having placed the gun on the floor, she stuck a syringe carefully into his neck, pushing down the plunger in seconds. Immediately, the kid began to feel heavy, like wet cement.

"It's a long acting paralytic, don't want you doing anything stupid." She laughed, deep in the throat, as she pulled something out of her pocket. "If someone can get you to a hospital, there's a common antidote." With this she stuffed the contents of her pocket, a fistful of white flowers, into his mouth. Retrieving her gun and standing up, she stared into his unblinking eyes before going to find the pound of cocaine he had hidden under his desk. She had it in less than five minutes as he stared straight ahead, unable to move, barely breathing around the flowers halfway down his throat. She was out the door six minutes later, leaving the kid wondering whether he would ever make it out of the room.


	2. Raised From the Ashes

This was edited a bit from when Istarted it. Hope that it doesn't offend. I don't own anything, never have, never will. Allons'y!

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><p>Fourteen months to the date after handing her three separate passports on rue l'Universite, Jennifer Jareau found her former teammate in Galway, a city in Ireland. Having been trying to track the woman down for a good two weeks, she was incredibly relieved to see her. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, she deposited herself on the stool next to her in the dimly lit bar. Without looking away from her glass, the former agent spoke.<p>

"So, you found me." Emily said flatly. Suddenly unsure of how to proceed, J.J. scrambled for words.

"Nice job losing the tail, it took me weeks to find you." Emily simply laughed.

"I assume you've come to collect me now that Doyle has been taken care of." J.J. greatly disliked the feral look in the other woman's eyes.

"Your handiwork was quite impressive. The white tulip was a nice touch. But burn on the chest, really?" Emily had a full blown grin going by now, and the look scared JJ more than anything had for quite some time.

"Have a drink." Emily looked at her pointedly.

"I'd rather not." She chuckled into her glass.

"A'right, your loss." JJ caught a glimpse of something in the older agent's face, for just a fraction of a second, and what she saw there, she didn't like. Downing the rest of her glass with barely a wince, she pushed herself back from the surface of the bar in order to look squarely at the woman next to her.

"Jayj," she spoke softly, something else suddenly lighting her eyes. The blond turned to find the other woman stepping into her space, and surprisingly, she let her. She got into the blonde's face, making sure that she felt her warm presence against her body. Within seconds, she had a hand on the other woman's jaw, pulling her in roughly. JJ's eyes widened in surprise before she regained the ability to move and took a step back.

"What…do you?" J.J. struggled, breathlessly. The brunette smiled darkly.

"Well, there's not much else, is there? Doyle's dead. His backers are dead. His men are dead. My job is done. All that's left is…" She took a breath, eyes flicking down "distraction." That last word she whispered directly into the blonde's mouth. JJ quickly caught hold of the hand on her jaw and jerked it away. She inspected her nearly black eyes, realizing for the first time how heavily dilated they were. Suddenly, her thoughts ran clear. She's fucking strung out.

"Em, what are you on?" Her only answer was to laugh in her face. JJ stealthily slipped her hand into the inner pocket of Emily's black leather jacket, knowing that she would most likely keep any important item close by. She encountered almost no resistance when her fingers passed a tiny vial. Pulling it out, she almost didn't register the pure white powder. Shock overrode her throat, constricting her vocal chords and making her voice crack when she tried to speak. Emily snatched the vial out of her hand and replaced it in her pocket.

"What do you think you're doing? Are you insane?" Her only reply was that same damn smile, holding something new, feral, and vastly different from the woman she had known previously.

"I don't know, am I?" She remained standing right in the blond's face, staring at her uncannily. The way she said it lent to the simple fact that yes, maybe she was. She turned away for a moment, tossing two twenties next to her empty glass, and then strode out into the cool night. J.J. was barely even out the door before she was pushed up against a rough brick wall.

"Shit, what are you doing?" Why did she bother asking, she knew exactly. The smile on Emily's face twisted into something strange, and J.J. didn't know what to make of it.

"You ever think about it, Jayj?" She didn't get a chance to croak out a cracked 'what?' before the answer was provided. "Ever wonder, what it would be like?" With that J.J. felt the brunette's lips against her neck, almost starting to lean into the touch before she felt a sudden sharp burn as Emily's teeth bit into her soft skin. When she looked up, a trickle of blood actually ran from her lip. Through the sharp pain at the surface of her skin and the duller ache reverberating through her blood, J.J. managed to get a thought through. Well, yeah, who wouldn't think of it. And then; wait, what? This is Emily Prentiss. SSA Prentiss, criminal ass kicking, deceased, and dearly missed, as written on the tombstone, Emily Prentiss. J.J. couldn't work it out in her head, how the purely professional, nerdy agent Prentiss ended up here, strung out on coke in a seedy bar, running from a murder rap and violently seducing the only friend she'd seen in a year. And yet, how would she herself have reacted to the circumstances? So later, as she let herself be led up to her friend's dark apartment, she turned off her analytical mind, and allowed herself to simply feel. And two hours later, her wrists handcuffed behind her back, she rolled with the punches, quite literally. She let Emily hold her in place as she caught her in the jaw, as she rained blows on her chest, as she kicked her against the wall. And after, bleeding and sore like she'd never been in her life, she let Emily take her limp body, she gave it to her for the night, let her lick and kiss and bite. She waited until Emily fell into a sedated sleep from a premixed formula of dilaudid and prophynol, She waited for the dark silence to let herself cry, not for the pain, but for the person that had died, and for the person that had raised herself from the ashes.


	3. Morning After

I don't own anything, you all know the drill. I really appreciate the comments from those of you that have bothered. Also, thanks, by the way, for the note on the formatting error, twas much appreciated. :) They make my day. I hope you enjoy.

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><p>J.J. awoke from a fitful sleep only a couple of hours after falling into unconsciousness. She had lain awake for hours, or at least it felt that way, despite the massive beating, emotional as well as physical, that she had taken. She found herself alone in the disrupted bed, the events of the previous night rushing into her head immediately in a rush of agonizing realization. She rubbed one of her bruised and bleeding wrists.<em> Yes, it had happened. All of it. <em>Suddenly self-conscious in only her under garments, she scuttles around the room to collect her button up shirt, her slacks, her socks, and her shoes before rapidly throwing them on. When she finished, she fell back on the bed heavily before jumping back up in a second rush of realization of the blows she received in that very place. Not wanting to confront just yet her friend, if she could even still call her that, she shakily sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was still completely lost in thought when the door to the room opened twenty minutes later. A very weary looking Emily Prentiss entered the room with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands and a horrified look on her face on seeing the sudden fear on J.J.'s. Neither woman knew what to say for quite a while, so after placing the mug on the floor next to the blond, Emily settled herself carefully on the edge of the bed, seemingly in pain herself. On closer inspection, J.J. realized that she too had a black eye, a split lip, bruises on her wrists and shoulders. _Did I do that?_ J.J. wondered, shock rolling through her all over again. _Or was it someone else? I couldn't have done all that to Emily, could I? Then again, what she did to me…_her thoughts trailed off. She couldn't think about it. She looked up to see the object of her thoughts kneeling in front of her, gently placing the back of her hand against J.J.'s cheek, trying to survey the damage. J.J jumped violently at the unexpected sensation, and Emily was about to speak when she interrupted her.

"Don't even try. Don't try to explain, don't try to apologize. I don't want to hear it." After cracking initially, both women were sort of taken aback by the violent anger in the tone of voice.

"I really just don't want to hear it, Emily. At this point, I don't care. I don't know what happened to you, but you've gotta pull yourself together. You're self destructing, and one of these day, Em, you're gonna reach a point at which you can't come back from. Emily, pain obvious in her eyes, reached for her hand, but she pulled it away quickly.

"Jayj, listen…"

"Don't touch me!" J.J. shouted, and then scrambled to her feet. She collected her gun and badge off the floor, bolted out of the room, and slammed the front door on her way out. Emily sank to the ground, not knowing where to go from there. She couldn't believe what she had done, and yet all that she could think of was the dullness brought on by her little white pills. When the shaking and sweating started only half an hour later, she was still splayed out on the floor, lost in her head. On the realization that her body was deciding to betray her yet again, she stood stiffly before making her way to her bag to prepare herself for the meds. Her head started to pound, she carefully prepped four of the two milligram tablets of generic hydromorphone. She crushed and dissolved them before pulling them through a piece of cotton into the barrel of an only slightly worn rig. Her vision already starting to blur with the body's hunger for the drug, she pulled a band tight around her elbow with her teeth and struggled to find a vein that was not yet blown. Tears coming to her eyes from the difficulty, and the fear of not being able to get her pharmaceutical gold into her blood, she started getting frantic. _I can't do the damn thing with my hands shaking like this! Goddamnit!_ Digging into her bag once again, she drew out the tiny vial from the night before, shook a bit out into her palm, and breathed it fast up her nose. Sure enough, the burn paradoxically calmed her nerves, and she pushed the frustration and guilt down far enough to expertly isolate a vein, insert the needle, and plunge the beautiful solution into her starving blood. Almost immediately, barely giving her enough time to pull out the needle, the opiate rushed through her blood, relaxing every nerve and muscle fiber in an instant. She slumped back against the wall with her head tilted up, immensely grateful as the knot making its way from the stomach to lodge itself in her throat dissipated. The world slowed, dulled itself, sounds were muted. The last thing she felt as her eyes slipped closed and she lost grasp of consciousness was the guilt about J.J. fading into the void.


	4. Inner Circle

You know the drill, I don't own a single goddamn thing. I do very much appreciate the reviews, and trust me, i have taken them into account, I just haven't gotten to that part yet. I don't quite now exactly where I'm going, I'm just sort of playing it by ear. Thanks so much for what you guys have already said, and in advamce for anything else you might like to add. I hope you enjoy. :)

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><p>Emily had made her way to Doyle's inner circle only two weeks before her confrontation in the Irish pub. The moment Liam stepped into his third floor flat, he felt an alien presence. His Browning 9mm was out in seconds, though it was impossible to see more than a foot in the dark.<p>

"Who's there?" he rasped.

"Who do you think?" He recognized the voice instantly, despite the initial shock at hearing the sound of a corpse.

"Lauren," he breathed, his heart suddenly in his throat.

"Liam, nice to see you again." She grinned at him in the dark, though he couldn't for the life of him make out the details of her whereabouts. He was about to make a sarcastic comment before suddenly he was on the floor, her knees digging into his back. She had a gun to his neck. She wasn't worried about the noise; nowadays she was always equipped with a silencer.

"Shit!" He spat out, mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.

"Yeah, Liam, I'd say that's just about right." Emily smirked at him, her trademark sarcastic tone digging aggravating his temper even more. She had his wrists cuffed behind his back before she rolled off of him, brushing herself off as she stood up. He was up almost as fast and rapidly gave her a hard kick to the stomach, earning a sharp gasp and then something else. Was that a laugh?

"Come on, Liam, afraid to kick a girl?" She coughed. "Or are you always that weak?"

"You stupid bitch!" He growled. He ran at her like a battering ram, had her down in seconds. And then he kicked her, in the stomach, the chest, the head, slamming her against the wall. She got up stiffly, her vision blurred just a bit, head pounding, prompting her to think that maybe she should have shot up just before she got here. She pushed the thought away, savoring the adrenaline that she knew would only climb higher as she took another life to the edge and quickly pushed it off into oblivion. She could feel the excitement stirring in her blood, the same feeling she got from seducing one of those mindless suits in the cheap bars, only somehow better. That feeling, that sensation of being completely in control of another life, holding that thin thread between your fingertips, and holding the scissors in the other hand. Recently, it had just grown to be irresistible. Quietly, she moved to flick on the switch, instantly flooding the trashed room with dull fluorescent light. Liam stared at her, and she stared back, gun in hand and obnoxious grin on her face. She strode toward him, the smile plastered across her face unwavering, the anticipating becoming too great to handle. She stopped inches away from his face, staring into his eyes, as she shot him in the foot. Blood soaked under her leather combat boots immediately, and she smiled inwardly at the squishing sensation as she took one step forward to where Liam now lay on the ground.

"Goddamnit! I was right! "He screamed, speech already beginning to slur. "You're crazy! You're a crazy bitch! I always said you were too good to be true!" She knelt down beside him to speak in his ear.

"I don't know Liam, am I?" She pushed held the gun against his stomach, but he didn't notice it until another bullet ripped through his intestines. On his next words, he spat blood into his face, though the life quickly went out of the words.

"Fuckin' goddamn piece of shite! You stupid…" On this Emily dug into her pocket for the handful of white tulips she had bought for the occasion. She stuffed them roughly into the gaping, blood spewing cavity that was his stomach as his eyes widened at her. She stood up and made her way to the door as she spoke the last words he would ever hear.

"Well, Liam, next time maybe you should listen to your instincts." She laughed huskily, her blood running hot with arousal and excitement, and flicked the light off on her way out.


	5. White Tulip

I don't own anything, as per usual. Please, please, please, leave a review, no matter what it is you want to say. They really make my day, I thrive on them, and I lose the drive to write if I don't get feedback. Thank you to those who have, and in advance to those who will. I hope you enjoy.

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><p>That whole day, as J.J. went about her work, her mind not on the dull ache reverberating through her bruised muscles, but the intense anger and confusion running clear through her mind. The bright, nearly insane look in Emily's eye as she beat her to a bloody pulp was imprinted on her brain, and she couldn't for the life of her pull her attention away. After only an hour of wandering the streets of the unfamiliar city, she was called to a crime scene. It was close, and after retrieving her car, it was only a twenty minute drive. The room was a mess, with the centerpiece being a young man with green spiked hair tied to a chair. Under any other circumstances, the corpse would not have fazed her a bit. It was the handful of white tulips stuffed into his gaping mouth that nearly stopped her heart. The profile she gave detailed one lie after another, directing as much blame as she possibly could away from the person she knew for a fact committed the brutal and seemingly meaningless crime.<p>

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><p>J.J. remembered clearly the day she realized what was going on. The day she was called to a crime scene in Boston to find a man with a gaping bullet hole in his stomach stuffed with white tulips. It was that day she realized the scope of what Emily Prentiss' death really would mean. She remembered being called in as a consultant, and on being asked her advice, she replied distantly that the man was part of an ongoing investigation with the DOD. Lie. She fabricated the case against him as soon as she got back to her office, enlisting the unwitting help of Garcia in the process. The others, the men before, she had covered up just as efficiently without ever looking back, because this was the only way to protect her agent, was it not? It was just going above and beyond for a case. She didn't admit to herself that the agent she was looking after was the first thing she thought of when she woke up and the last thing before she fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep. This wasn't breaking the law; she was only protecting her agent. Yeah, sounds perfect on paper.<p>

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><p>She managed to find her way back to Emily's apartment without any conscious thought. Already standing in front of the desk in the tiny closet of a lobby, she suddenly realized that she didn't know the name under which she had to access the room. Reaching back through the painful and blurred memory, she did manage to dig up the number. She cleared her throat before speaking to the nearly ancient man sitting half asleep at the desk. He jumped at the noise, but managed to compose himself.<p>

"Wha' you want?" He spoke with a bored, think cockney accent, a find odd enough in the middle of Ireland.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could see the tenant of room 42A?" She asked nervously.

"You got a name for that room?"

"No ah, I… " J.J. mumbled before pulling out her badge. "It's official business. If I could just talk to the, ah, tenant."

"Alright, whatever you like." He limped through the room down the hall to the elevator, a small box that looked to be about a hundred years old. She apprehensively followed him, wondering for the first time Emily had managed to find the what looked like the cheapest apartment in all of Europe when she had access to nearly unlimited funds. She bit back the sharp comment the still fumingly angry part of head provided that she was probably saving it to spend it all on cocaine and dope. Guilt at the thought swept over her features as the man unlocked the door with his master key. She had already stepped into the apartment by the time she realized that it was completely empty. Granted, it hadn't had much in it to begin with, and the furniture remained, but the floor, which had been strewn with clothes, bottles, and newspapers the night before, was now completely cleaned out.

"You sure ya got the right room?" The old man drawled. J.J. shook her head.

"I'm just going to take a look around." Thinking deeper into it, J.J. realized that she should have thought of it sooner. She had found her after all, and Emily certainly didn't want to be found, especially after the murders she had committed recently, not to mention the event that had conspired the night before. J.J. slammed her fist against the wall, instantly regretting it as the pain added to the throbbing she felt in every other bone of her body. She fought back tears, confused at the sudden emotion, and even more confused at the choice of it. She should be angry at herself for not realizing the plan, guilty for the lies, relieved at the safety. Safety from her best friend. But instead, she was genuinely upset that she couldn't see her. She missed her already, the woman that beat her and took advantage of her, killing seemingly for sport, all the while throwing away her body and mind to the drugs. But she missed her, because for the first time in her life, her nerves were rubbed raw enough to admit it. She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the bouquet of white tulips. She picked up the flowers, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, guilty at the inane weakness. A card caught her eye, and suddenly her heart was beating in her throat. She flipped it over quickly, hoping for some sort of reassurance, something, anything at all. The white card had only a single sentence in a dark, sloppy script. _Ik zie je in Amsterdam._


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